Post by Kyle Cameron on May 22, 2016 14:26:48 GMT -6
KYLE CAMERON PROMO #1 - Cribs
It was starting to feel a lot like summer.
The sun was shining down on my skin, suntan lotion being the only thing protecting me from a nasty sunburn. Tanning season was just around the corner, I knew it. Thank god my new speedo came in the mail, that was gonna be the key to a tan dank enough to make everyone I knew jealous. Shades on, staring into the sky without a care in the whole damn world, an ice cold drink in my hand. I took a quick sip, making sure not to drink too much. I wanted to savor this thing for all it was worth.
Earlier in the day I had hired a professional cameraman to show up to the house, since I was needing to film an introduction of myself to the UCI Galaxy. After waiting a damn near eternity, I finally heard a car pulling up in the driveway.
Kyle Cameron: In the backyard, bub.
The two of us wasted no time discussing how I wanted this shit done. We both knew we'd be filming something truly, truly great today.
Look out UCI. The Champ. Is. Here, and he's here to fuckin' play.
Look out UCI. The Champ. Is. Here, and he's here to fuckin' play.
[Our video package begins with a wide shot of the house in question. I say "house" even though you could probably classify it as a mansion if you really wanted to. It's a fairly large house, appearing to have at least three levels, and looks quite upscale if not for the front lawn, which is in dire need of a trimming down. As the camera aggressively pans in to the front door, out comes some little asshole named Kyle Cameron, a smug grin on his face. Dressed in only a gaudy unbuttoned Hawaiin shirt and a speedo, Kyle is dripping wet, as if he had just gotten out of a pool, and behind him trails of little puddles can be seen.]
Kyle Cameron: Wassup playa! This is the one and only Kyle. Champion. CAMERON! And today is your lucky day, cause you've got a VIP pass into mi casa, hehe. LET'S GET IT!
[Kyle claps his hands excitedly and beckons the cameraman to follow him inside. While trying not to slip on any of the puddles around him, the cameraman makes sure to catch every bit of the house he can. Brief shots are inter cut of the living room and all it's luxuries. A flatscreen, about 50 inches or so, hangs on the wall. Currently playing is a documentary about the drug trade on the Viceland channel. Kyle, now properly dried off with a rolled up joint in his hands, hops on the leather couch, grabbing a lighter off the nearby end table. He watches the documentary and shakes his head.]
Kyle Cameron: Such a shame, the people who risk their lives so I can enjoy this sticky icky. Oh well, TIME TO GET BLAZED.
[Kyle places the joint in his mouth and lights up, trying to take a long drag before exhaling almost immediately. Although he's probably not gotten high at all from his quick exhale, he still tries to seem like he has.]
Kyle Cameron: It's lit fam. You want a hit?
Cameraman: No thank you, I don't smoke.
Kyle Cameron: Suit yourself, you ungrateful prick.
[If the camera made a retort of some sort to Kyle's rudeness we can't hear it. Kyle quickly brushes this off before getting up off the couch.]
Kyle Cameron: Enough pussyfooting around, let's take a look at what we got in the kitchen.
[Kyle starts walking off into the nearby kitchen, the cameraman following not too far behind. The kitchen is armed to the teeth with the absolute tip top of the line appliances. There is enough counter space to prepare a meal for over ten, maybe twelve people, and an island right in the middle of the room with a basket full of fresh bananas. Despite all this, Kyle goes almost immediately for the pantry.]
Kyle Cameron: Okay, what we got, what we got...AHA. Here we go!
[He pulls out a bag of flamin hot Cheetos, a big stupid grin on his face.]
Kyle Cameron: MUNCHIE TIME!
[Just then, the feed from the camera cuts out. All we see is blackness, but we can hear the audio just fine. The audio appears to be from later on in the day, as all we hear is a angry male voice yelling.]
Voice: -THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL DAY?! I leave the house to you for ONE DAY so you can mow the lawn, I come back there's water everywhere, my pantry's empty, the living room smells like...*sniff sniff*...I don't even KNOW what the living room smells like!
Kyle Cameron: Look man, I can explain everything!
Voice: EXPLAIN THE FACT THAT MY PORECLAIN ANGEL, MY MOTHER'S MOST PRIZED POSSESSION, IS ON THE FLOOR IN A MILLION PIECES?!
Kyle Cameron: That was your mothers? Oh my god, I'm so sorry.
Voice: SORRY WON'T FIX THESE BROKEN MEMORIES BOY.
Kyle Cameron: God, ain't this the life? This is what a busy career on the indy circuit gives you. I've been there, done that, and seen it all. Won my fair share of titles, been in a couple of main events. This week, I'm gonna add one more company to my resume. United Championship Infinite. Nice little start up, wouldn't you say?
[The camera moves up and down, simulating a nod from the cameraman.]
Kyle Cameron: Well lemme tell you somethin fam, no one, absolutely NO ONE in the UCI has seen ANYTHING like me! I'm one of a kind, baby! One in a million! I'm taking this little World Title tourney they got goin' on by storm! You should be thankful you little ingrate, thankful that you're even be allowed to hang out with the future Inaugural UCI World Heavyweight Champion of the World! This should be a moment you tell to your kids and grandkids. "When daddy was a young piece of shit Kyle Champion Cameron let me hang out with him for a day. It was the best day ever!"
[After emptying the Cheeto bag, Kyle gets up off the couch, then wipes his Cheeto Dust ridden fingers on the fine leather couch, immediately devaluing it by quite a lot of money, before turning back to the cameraman and laughing.]
Kyle Cameron: Oh who am I kidding, you obviously can't get laid, so you'll never have children, haha!
Cameraman: You never know, I could always adopt.
Kyle Cameron: Just shut up and film, okay bub? I don't need no sassafrass.
[As Kyle walks down the hall, he notices a hutch situated in the middle of it. He takes the center piece of the hutch, a well crafter porcelain angel, probably very old and antique-y, and giggles.]
Kyle Cameron: Look at this pansy angel shit, man. That stupid little face on it. Reminds me of a guy I'm going up against this week by the name of Michael.
Cameraman: Michael who?
Kyle Cameron: I don't fuckin know, dude only put Michael on his UCI contract. What a fuckin putz, I tell ya. I got it on good authority that he's just a bum in a trenchcoat who wandered into UCI offices when they opened up, and they were so strapped for talent they gave him a contract. I'd believe it. Dude says he's from The Ruins of New York, I bet you he just means the Back alleys of New york. I've been there myself, they're pretty post-apoco enough that I wouldn't put it past Angelface to get confused. Says he's here to stop the end of days or some shit like that, can you believe that?
[The camera moves side to side, simulating a shaking head.]
Kyle Cameron: Didn't think so. This Michael dude seems like a huge puss to me tho. Should be able to handle him in about five seconds, maybe less. I tell you what, you wanna see a demonstration of what I'mma do to him on Sunday?
Cameraman: Sure.
[Smirking like a madman, Kyle chucks the little knick knack straight at the wall. As soon as contact is made the porcelain shatters into a million pieces, it's explosion like a tiny bomb. The camera is audibly shocked as he lets out a gasp.
Cameraman: Holy shit man! How much did that thing cost?!
Kyle Cameron: Don't know, don't care. Moving on...
[Kyle beckons the cameraman into the next room down the hall, the master bedroom. Like everything else in the house, the room is top of the line. Another flatscreen hangs on the wall across from the massive king sized bed, a dark red bedspread covering silky sheets, some of which is exposed at the bottom.
Kyle Cameron: This...oh man, this is where the magic happens baby!
[He says this without a trace of irony.]
Kyle Cameron: It should go without saying, but after a long night of partying, this is where I take my hottie of the night for a little sexcapade magic, know what I'm saying? It goes a little something like this...
[He bellyflops onto the bed, making exaggerated humping motions while moaning. It's very bad. Very, very bad. The feed then cuts to within the masterbathroom a little bit later. Kyle has a hold of the camera, recording himself as he sits on the toilet, speedo around his legs.]
Kyle Cameron: You know, while I'm on the topic of my opponnents this Sunday, I figure I'd give y'all my feelings on one Mr. Asher Bradley.
[Kyle makes a face, and loud noises erupt from his butthole as we can hear the dookie plop down into the water.]
Kyle Cameron: That's exactly how I feel everytime I hear Asher Bradley talk. It's like the sound of his voice is some sort of laxative to both my ears and my bowels. "Wahh wahh my graddaddy wahh wahh I'm a hitman wahh wahh!" STOP CRYING AND START FIGHTING, YOU FUCKIN' LOSER! GOD, you're job is something most people would KILL to have. LITERALLY. KILL. TO. HAVE! Why are you such a fucking sour puss about it?! Fucking emo little punk, STOP YOUR TEARS MATE, you're making an embarrassment of yourself. Whose forgotten livejournal account did you come from? "Ooooooh, I'm an assassin, ooooh no one understands me and the life I live. My past was a struggle ooooooh." Fucking Sasuke Uchiha ass. "Gun for Hire?" More like "Cliche for Hire." Once more, with feeling.
[Kyle drops another hot fucking load before plunging down for the flush. The feed once again cuts to later on in the day. The camera has been turned sideways, the cameraman probably thought he turned it off and left it there. We catch a glimpse of Kyle pushing a mower through the unkept lawn of the house, while an older gentlemen watches him from his lawn chair, a tall glass of lemonade in his hand.]
Man: WORK FASTER BOY!
[Then, one last time the feed cuts back to earlier. Kyle is at the entrance to the house, back where the whole video started.]
Kyle Cameron: Well guys, it's been real, but all good things must come to a end. I'll see you guys this Sunday in Chicago. I hope your ready for THE DAWN. OF THE KYLE. CHAMPION. CAMERON. ERA!! Now get outta here you fuckin losers.
[Kyle slams the door shut as the video (mercifully) comes to an end.]
After the long drive from the old man's place, I finally pulled up to the driveway home. Before getting out of my car (a real piece of shit, lemme tell ya) I counted my pay. Just as I thought, the fucker had jipped me out of almost half my pay. Figures. I got out the car and made my way inside.
I've lived in this rusty trailer my whole life, and in that time it has changed not once. Always the same furniture, always the same trailer smell, roaches crawling around every now and again. It blew chunks man. Plus the AC sucked, so summers were unbearable. I knew my mom hated this place too, the only reason she stayed was because it was really all she knew. That was the biggest thing I told myself when I signed that UCI contract. Get her somewhere better with the money I earned. I could care less if I went with her, as long as she was living comfortably and was proud of me.
I came inside, my mom (As usual) as sitting in the recliner watching old reruns of Mike and Molly on our large CRT TV. All she knew was that I had gone out do a mowing job nearby. She still had no idea about UCI, and I had no idea how I would explain it to her.
Mom: Hey baby, how was the job.
Kyle Cameron: Good, made me a few bucks. I'm gonna go pop in the shower for a bit.
Mom: That's fine honey, just don't take up all the hot water.
Thoughts of UCI superstars like Thursday Kerrigan and Erinn Fausse in my mind, I hopped in for a furious masturbation session in the shower, and after the resulting clean up session I ate dinner and went to bed for the evening.
